


Succour

by This_is_your_Heichou_speaking



Series: Cross My Heart [14]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: (And tell me if they're shit seriously), Boys Kissing, Fluff and Angst, I love Drarry so much but idk how to write them, Idk if they're too OOC or not, M/M, but i tried, please read anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-03
Updated: 2017-10-03
Packaged: 2019-01-08 18:15:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12259533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/This_is_your_Heichou_speaking/pseuds/This_is_your_Heichou_speaking
Summary: Unbetaed. They're never betaed anymore who do I kid.





	Succour

**Author's Note:**

> Unbetaed. They're never betaed anymore who do I kid.

"You're staring again."   
  
Draco jerked at the sudden voice in his ear, gaze landing on his uneaten breakfast. He looked up to see Pansy, studiously reading the book in her lap as a forkful of mashed potatoes made its way to her mouth.   
  
"At what?" he asked. Her eyes remained fixed, and she didn't reply. Draco frowned. "At what?" he repeated, a little more forcefully.   
  
She looked up, unimpressed. "What do you think?"   
  
When Draco only stared blankly, she huffed as if Draco was trying her patience, and gestured vaguely toward the other end of the hall. "Potter."   
  
Immediately, Draco's cheeks warmed, and he scowled. "I wasn't!"   
  
She raised an eyebrow. "You were." She lifted her fork again, mouth open, but then seemed to think better of it, and put it back down, frowning faintly down at her plate as if her appetite had left her.   
  
"Really, Draco. This is unbecoming," she commented airily as she reached across the table to grab an apple instead. "Either stop, or go over and talk to him. And if you absolutely _must_  stare, do it discreetly? I doubt I'm the only one to notice."   
  
She didn't say much more as she stood and walked out, back straight, leaving Draco looking after her open-mouthed.   
  
His jaw shut with a snap as he frowned, gripping the edge of the table. He chanced a look across to the Gryffindor table, only to turn his head violently when he made eye contact with Potter.   
  
"I wasn't staring," he mumbled to himself.   
  
After a while he couldn't help but look over again. It was strange, but he really couldn't stop looking for Potter in a crowd, almost instinctively. One might expect to see Gryffindor's resident hero socialising and laughing, except the boy was always just sat there quietly every time Draco happened to look. He still sat with his friends - the Weasel and Granger, but whilst his peers shouted across the table towards each other and laughed uproariously at each other's jokes, Potter just remained silent, as if he wasn't even there. Weasley and Granger were murmuring quietly, heads together, and once in a while would both look worriedly over, but Potter didn't seem to notice.   
  
Draco frowned. Not that it concerned him. He looked back down at his plate, and suddenly dinner didn't seem so appetizing anymore. It _didn't_  concern him, never had and probably never would. So why did that thought hurt?   
  
He sighed gustily and stood up, straightening his robes. Theodore looked at him, opening his mouth to ask him where he was going, but Draco just shook his head and left the great hall without another word.   
  
He made his way straight to the common room, but stopped halfway, freezing awkwardly in the middle of the thankfully empty hallway. He didn't want to see anybody, and the feeling was so strong that the idea of looking at other people, of even passing them on the way to the dormitories felt so completely abhorrent that he simply couldn't make himself go. His arms dropped to his sides limply, and he took a turn into a quieter hallway instead.   
  
A few hours later found him wandering the corridors in the late evening, lost in confusing thought. Unfortunately for him, his thoughts were still centred around Potter and his lost smile and very green, very sad eyes. He was skinny again, Draco couldn't help but have noticed - thin as a stick, and he looked so haunted Draco could barely stand to look at him without needing to take a break to calm down.   
  
He supposed it made sense for him to look that way, after everything he'd seen last year. That wasn't the off thing, no. What _was_  strange, was how much Draco cared.   
  
He shouldn't, he knew. He'd always hated Potter, and the other boy had always hated him. There was just _something_  between them that had always pushed him to antagonize Potter, to see the fire in his eyes and push for the sharp retort back. And yet, searching, he couldn't find that desire in himself anymore.   
  
He'd tried, at the start of this year, to convince Potter into arguing with him again, but the way he'd just turned and ignored him, as if Draco wasn't even worth a second glance. Or, he thought now, as if he couldn't be bothered anymore, and Draco didn't know which was sadder. And now there were these feelings, these strange impulses that pushed Draco to comfort the boy, to care for him and hug him and-   
  
And what a coincidence, that the alcove he passed now just _happened_  to house the very person he couldn't stop thinking about. Potter was leaning against the wall, legs curled into his body and cheek resting on his knees. His eyes were closed, his breathing steady, and for a moment Draco thought he was asleep, but then he moved closer and Potter's eyes snapped open.   
  
He let out a strange whine and curled in onto himself tightly, and the fear in his eyes made Draco burn with something like pity and rage. The moment was over before he knew it, and suddenly he was faced with indignant green eyes staring straight at him as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.   
  
"What do you want, Malfoy?" the boy said, causing Draco to frown.   
  
He ignored the question, instead laughing flatly. "Were you actually _sleeping_  here, Potter? Not used to having a bed to sleep in after so long with your pet weasel?"   
  
Potter's eyes flashed with something unrecognizable, and he sat up. "Shove off, Malfoy," he said, but it didn't contain even half the venom it usually did, and Draco deflated like a balloon that'd been popped.   
  
"You're... not okay," he said awkwardly, then cursed at himself. Potter looked at him, confused and silent.   
  
Draco sighed. "I just, I've noticed. You seem so... lost." He floundered a little. "I don't like it," he admitted quietly. Potter laughed loudly, and it grated on his ears like sharp shards of shattered glass.   
  
"That's surprising," he sneered, sounding both sarcastic and scarily close to tears, and Draco wanted to hold all the broken pieces together but he didn't know _how_.   
  
"And here I thought you'd just _love_  to see me like this," Harry was saying now, and yes, he was Harry now, because _Potter_  could never sound like this, not in a million years. The change of name, even if it was just in his head, made the boy seem so much more fragile, and Draco took another step without even realising he'd done it.   
  
"I'm not my _father_ ," he whispered harshly. "And I'm not _happy_  to see you hurt. I just-"   
  
He took another step closer, and Harry shrank back. Draco stopped, moving his palms up flat like Harry was a frightened animal, and tried to make himself look as harmless as possible.   
  
"Let me help?" he asked, and then stepped closer, and closer, until he was practically nose to nose with Harry, who stared at him wide-eyed and confused.   
  
"Let me take care of you," he said now, and he didn't know where the desire came from but it was there, in his heart, in his throat, urging him to take this boy into his arms and kiss him until he forgot everything. ' _I won't find myself here again,_ ' he thought suddenly, and he moved his arms slowly to wrap around Harry in response. There was such affection in his heart - not love, but he thought it could be.   
  
He just wanted to heal this boy.   
  
He leaned down, arms tight around Harry, and pressed firm lips against his mouth in a chaste kiss.   
  
Harry was trembling, awkward and unhappy and uncertain, but Draco stayed there, firm, until he opened his mouth hesitantly. And then they were kissing properly, wet and warm and Draco felt it all so acutely he thought he'd dream about this for days, feel the phantom push of soft lips hours later when he lay in bed alone, trying to sleep.   
  
He kissed back hard, showing Harry he was there, wanting to feel like he would be here forever, and Harry let him, opening his mouth and panting into Draco's in turn.   
  
When he finally pulled away, Draco couldn't help but stay close and leave soft little kisses at intervals as they stood with foreheads touching and eyes closed.   
  
Harry's lips felt so nice, so soft, and it wasn't like Draco had never kissed anyone before (or been kissed) but this felt so much more different. There was something burning in his chest, in his stomach, but it wasn't lust. It was softer than that, aching in a way less physical but more painful.   
  
He kissed Harry again, just a peck really, and then moved back enough so that he could look at the boy without his eyes crossing. He didn't loosen his hold though, keeping his gaze on kiss-swollen lips and dark eyelashes resting on delicate skin, eyes hidden from his sight.   
  
Harry's eyebrows were strangely knitted, a little as if he were in pain, but as the two of them stood in silence and their breathing calmed, his face relaxed until he looked almost serene. Draco sighed then, and Harry opened his eyes to look him straight in his.   
  
"This is unexpected," he said quietly, as if speaking too loudly would break the mood. Draco couldn't help but smile at the honest want in those eyes, and at how badly Harry was hiding it.   
  
"It was," he admitted. "For both of us." His fingers tightened on Harry's hip involuntarily as an unpleasant thought occurred to him.   
  
"Do you regret it?"   
  
Harry went a little red, but shook his head. "Maybe I should," he replied, "but I don't."   
  
Draco nodded. "I don't either," he clarified, just in case. Misunderstandings could grow to be painful things to deal with.   
  
He wanted to ask Harry if he was feeling better, but thought better of it. Instead he let his arms loosen around the boy and intertwined his fingers with the Gryffindor's as casually as he could, starting to pull him gently down the hall.   
  
"It's late," he said by way of explanation. Turning into a bigger corridor, they could see the night sky out of the large windows, and the fact that the castle was completely empty as far as they could see told Draco that it was probably very close to curfew, if not a little after it.   
  
Harry said nothing as they walked up to Gryffindor tower, but as they drew closer his hold on Draco's hand tightened and he walked ever closer to Draco, almost unconsciously. At the entrance to the tower he loosened his grip, turning to go, but Draco didn't let him.   
  
Instead he pulled Harry back, and leant in slowly enough that the boy could stop him if he so wished. Harry didn't, so Draco kissed him again, just on the lips, for a long minute before he let go.   
  
"I'll see you tomorrow, okay?" he asked softly. Harry nodded, a hesitant smile blooming on his face as he took a step back.   
  
"I'll see you tomorrow, Draco," he replied, and then he was gone.   
  
Draco stood there a while, staring after his classmate, before he remembered himself and started a swift stride towards the dungeons. The evening had left him with a strange feel, almost as if it had been a moment in a dream or another realm, but Draco didn't feel panicked or incredulous now that he was away from the source, only calm.   
  
That night was the best night's sleep he'd had since he could remember.


End file.
